


in love just a little

by bethycupcake



Series: the fire it ignites [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a little shit, self-depreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethycupcake/pseuds/bethycupcake
Summary: In a battle between head and heart, which will win out? Will you and Steve let down your walls enough to admit to yourselves - and each other- that there might be something between you?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: the fire it ignites [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612768
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> once again, i am SO sorry it's taken so long to get this posted! boughts of inspiration have been few and far between and life's gotten in the way but its here!  
> *technically* this is the last part, but it ended up being a lot longer than i planned, so there'll be another chapter that i'll try and get posted in the next day or two  
> enjoy :)

The next few days passed in much of a similar fashion; you and Steve would while away the quiet hours in the compound by watching movies and television, reading and listening to music, the snippets of pop culture that Steve had never had time to catch up on. You had begun to grow more comfortable with one another, awkward exchanges giving way to light-hearted teasing, and where the captain's presence had once put you on edge, you now found yourself looking forward to spending time with him.

Over those three days, your injuries had healed nicely. While you still had to take care, you were now able to move around freely, without fear that you might do yourself more harm. You were, thankfully, able to shower on your own - not that you hadn't enjoyed it when Steve helped you, his bare skin so close to yours that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him... No. It was for the best that you showered alone. You couldn't allow those thoughts to plague your mind, no matter how much you wanted to. Nothing good could come of it.

Steve's almost constant presence had become... oddly domestic. Once you were able, you helped him cook, though he insisted on doing the dishes himself afterwards. There was a sketchbook of his, along with a pack of charcoal pencils, on the coffee table, and a couple of his sweatshirts draped over the back of one of the armchairs. The thought of him in your space like this sent a weird surge of butterflies through your stomach.

It became a regular thing to relax on the couch with a movie after dinner. To begin with, you would sit at opposite ends of the couch, neither of you wanting to breach the other's personal space. But you soon shifted closer, inch by inch, until less than a foot of space separated you. It was times like those where you found your mind wandering, longing to know how it would feel to press your body up against his, to drink in his warmth, to feel the weight of his arm draped over your shoulders, holding you close. 

Sometime during the evening of the third day, the rest of the team returned, sending the previously still compound into a flurry of activity that only waned when exhaustion forced the team to retire to bed. 

The sudden change in noise levels felt oddly unnerving to Steve, and in the quiet stillness, he found his mind drifting.

He thought of the team, and their successful mission, and what would need to be done next. He was thankful that there were only mild injuries sustained so, as long as they were given a few days to rest and heal up, he wouldn't have to take anyone off of active duty. 

His thoughts, then, drifted to you, and Steve allowed himself to wallow in the feeling that had begun to grow stronger and stronger the more time he spent with you. A feeling that he hadn't allowed himself to feel for another person in so long... Affection.

Steve never thought he could feel this way for someone again, not after everything that had happened. For years he believed that his ability to love like that had died with Peggy, that he would never again get to feel the rushing of his heart when tender gazes met. 

And yet, there you were. And Steve had been so blindsided by his own opinion of you, for months, that he didn't see it until you were - quite literally - standing bare in front of him. Inches away, and yet a seemingly unbreachable chasm between you. There was no way that you could feel the same for him, not after how poorly he had treated you. But you'd had a beautiful vulnerability in your eyes that night in the hospital wing, and an openness he had never seen from you before. Not that he had seen much of you at all. 

He quashed the guilt rising in his chest, forcing himself to remember the soft way you had spoken to him, the forgiveness that you had expressed. He knew that you were on better terms now, but still the remorse lingered, having taken root in him with an outright refusal to budge. He concentrated on the image of your face earlier, bright with laughter, and the mental picture both comforted and scared him. 

But the scariest part was that he had no idea how it had happened. It was like a switch had been flipped, and all of the negative feelings he held towards you vanished, leaving in their wake the recognition of your earlier behaviour for what it really was. A front, carefully designed to keep people from seeing you, the real you, the one you kept hidden under your outwardly prickly exterior. The you that had been broken and mended and broken all over again throughout your life, that wanted nothing more than to help the people who couldn't help themselves. Steve already liked that person a great deal more than the person he had met all those months ago, more than he ever thought he could. 

It couldn't be love. Of that much he was sure, he wasn't naive enough to believe that he loved you, not now, not so soon. But there was a softness there, a tenderness that he hadn't felt in years, decades, even. It was new and exciting and perhaps even more terrifying than an actual alien invasion. At least he knew what to do in that situation. But, in matters of the heart, Steve was utterly clueless. 

The last time he had felt any sort of affection like this, was in the midst of an actual and literal war. There wasn't the time nor opportunity to act on romantic feelings with an endless stream of Nazis to dispose of, a world to save. (He supposed that that hadn't really changed. The world was still full of threats that needed to be neutralised and, by some cruel twist of fate, Nazis were still a thing.)

Steve was by no means free from responsibility, but now he had a whole team with whom to share the burden. He was no longer 'America's New Hope,' was no longer being pulled in sixty different directions at all times. 

Even so, he had never entertained the mere idea of pursuing a relationship with someone. It always seemed impossible to maintain something like that, with anyone. Not to mention that, in his line of work, it was nigh on impossible to meet people for whom he might develop romantic feelings. 

So why was this any different? Why couldn't he shake you from his head, the image of you naked before him, the scent of your shampoo, the feel of your soft skin beneath his fingertips? How had you managed to crawl under his skin so seamlessly, take root in the nerves at the tips of his fingers? Meld yourself to his brain so that the only thought he had when he allowed his mind to wander... was you? 

Steve scrubbed a hand down the side of his face, sighing, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He knew he wouldn't get to sleep any time soon, and decided to take a walk around the compound. He slipped some shoes and a hoodie on and headed out of his room towards the stairs that would eventually lead to the roof. Before he could make it that far, however, the glow of light emanating from the common room caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. 

As he moved closer to the doorway, he registered the sound of soft jazz music playing quietly, the melody distantly familiar to him, buried under decades of fog. Peering around the corner, he was surprised to see you, standing at the window, looking out at the still grounds, a pensive but relaxed look on your face. You had wrapped yourself up in one of the blankets that lived on the back of the couch and cradled a mug in your hands.

Steve spent several moments, just watching you like that, until he spoke up, his voice startling you. 

"I didn't have you pegged as a jazz fan." Your head whipped round to find the source of the sudden noise, your body relaxing upon discovering who it was, a sigh of relief escaping your lips.

"What were you expecting?" Your tone was light, teasing. "Punk rock? More of what Tony insists on blasting?"

Steve chuckled wryly, shaking his head a little, pushing off the wall with his shoulder to come and stand closer to you. "Something like that, I guess." He mentally berated himself for, once again, passing judgement like that. "I suppose I should know better than to make assumptions by now."

You lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, eyes watching the peaceful landscape outside. "It's okay. I forgive you." You met his eyes briefly, and he could see the humour settled there. You shared a soft smile that held a more profound meaning before returning your gaze to the window. "I'll admit, it's not exactly all that common for someone my age to like jazz. It kind of went out of fashion a little while you were asleep."

Steve laughed at that, his head tilting in almost resigned agreement. "That's true." He was quiet for a few moments. "Is there a specific reason why you like it?" He spoke softly, inquisitively, and found himself genuinely curious. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love jazz just as much as the next hundred-year-old man," you laughed softly, and Steve found it hard to ignore the blooming in his chest at the sound. “But I feel like my reason might be a little different from yours.”

You smiled sadly at the window before turning and moving back towards the couch. You placed your empty mug on the coffee table and settled in the corner of the sofa, curled in on yourself, the blanket still wrapped securely around you. Steve approached slowly and carefully took a seat a few feet away from you before he spoke softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to answer if you don't want t-"

"No," you interrupted quietly, but firmly. "It's okay, I want to answer, it's just... hard to talk about." Steve nodded but didn't say anything, content for you to talk whenever you were ready. Your hand reached up and rubbed at your eyes as you began speaking. "My, um... my parents were really into jazz music. For as long as I can remember, it was almost always playing in the house." Your face took on a faraway look as you paused, eyes glossing over with emotion. "They had this... old record player in the living room. It was second-hand, tattered and worn, but it was almost like a part of the family, you know?" You smiled fondly, wistfully at the memories flitting through your mind. "We didn't have all that many records, but we had the greats... Billie Holiday, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald... plus some others from the 50s and 60s. 

"Every Sunday evening before bed, we'd put those records on and dance in the living room. My mom and I would take turns dancing with my dad. He'd let me stand on his feet as he moved because he was afraid he'd step on my little toes." You chuckled softly before your expression turned sombre again. "It was our own little world, away from all the fear and the hardship my parents faced. I guess the music just reminds me of those happy times with them.” 

“That sounds nice,” Steve said, but there was a sadness that remained in your eyes when you smiled at him. He took a few seconds to figure out how to ask you about it, neither wanting to pry nor upset you and ruin the nice moment the two of you were having. “Do you still have the record player?”

You shook your head, looking intently at your hands folded in your lap. 

“What happened to it?” His voice was nearly at a whisper, speaking as gently as he could, trying to convey the fact that it was okay to talk to him if you wanted, but it was also okay if you didn’t.

“My parents…" you swallowed thickly, trying to rid the lump that had formed in your throat. "When they died, it was all taken. The records, the player, all taken along with almost everything else we owned."

"Who took it?" 

You shook your head, running your hand across your cheeks to remove the tears that had begun to fall. "I don't know. Bailiffs or loansharks, I guess." You could see the question in Steve's eyes, so quickly explained. "When I was young, my parents... we fell on hard times, neither could hold a job, and we struggled to make ends meet. They couldn't get any bank to give them a loan, so they had to ask other people for money. But it came with a hefty interest rate, and they couldn't pay it back. And when they couldn't the loansharks come looking." Your breath caught in your throat as you relived the painful memory of losing your parents. You buried your face in your hands and let the tears fall freely. You felt the light brush of fingertips across your shoulder, heard Steve calling your name softly, gently.

"Y/N... were your parents murdered?" He internally cringed at the bluntness, but he found himself desperate to understand you, where you came from, how you became the woman you are today. 

You sniffled and brought in a shaky breath as you lifted your head back up. Steve's hand trailed down your arm, taking your hand in his. The action was oddly grounding, and you swallowed down your emotions with a sigh, focusing on the soothing motion of Steve's thumb against the back of your hand. "I came home from school one day - I remember, I was really excited to show them the good mark I got on this paper." You laughed almost bitterly. "I found them both on the floor, and the apartment ransacked. They killed them, then took whatever they wanted to make up for the payments. Including our records, and the player." 

Steve found himself unable to say anything, not wanting to make the situation worse or offer the typical 'I'm sorry.' It seemed too trivial. You deserved more than that.

So, rather than say anything, he simply shifted closer to you, and pulled you close to him, enveloping you in his strong arms. His embrace calmed you, made you feel safer than you had in years. He held you like that for a long time, music still playing softly over the speakers. Neither of you spoke, just enjoying being in the other's arms. 

The music changed again, and the room was filled with the familiar intro to a song he knew and loved. The sound of it after all these years made something stir deep within him. He fell in love with the song the first time he heard it, and it became something of an aspiration to him; back in the 40s, Steve would imagine dancing to this song with the woman he loved, holding each other close and stealing a kiss or two. There was a time when he believed that he would never get that, and then there was a time he imagined that he would be able to do that with Peggy. And now... he wasn't entirely sure.

Before his brain could shut the idea down, Steve disturbed the quiet. "Dance with me?" You uncurled yourself from him to look at him in confusion. But before you could question him, he stood, offering his hand to you, looking at you expectantly, as the mellow voice of Kitty Kallen began. He could see the amusement in your eyes as you took his hand and stood, allowing the blanket to fall onto the couch. With a sudden wave of confidence, Steve took your hand in his, and placed his other hand on your waist, drawing you close. 

The two of you began to sway gently, paying no real mind to the beat of the song. You settled yourself closer to Steve's chest, his chin resting lightly against the crown of your head, your free hand resting on his bicep. Your eyes fluttered closed, and Steve's hand tightened around yours as you lost yourselves in the music.

_ Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again _

_ It's been a long, long time _

_ Haven't felt like this, my dear, since can't remember when _

_ It's been a long, long time _

The familiar lyrics held a new meaning for both of you, and the weight of it was simultaneously burdensome and uplifting. Steve pulled you ever closer to him, and you shifted so that your forehead was pressed lightly against the side of his neck, his cheek resting upon your head. The hand that was on his bicep snaked up and round, coming to rest at the nape of his neck, your fingers playing with the soft, short hair there. The sensation made him swallow thickly, the movement evident to you in your position. 

_ You'll never know how many dreams I dream about you _

_ Or just how empty they all seem without you _

You felt like you could stay in his arms forever, the steady thrum of his heartbeat next to your ear soothing your nerves, lulling you into a state of calm. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way, so comforted by a person's mere presence. Your line of work didn't allow much room for relationships, neither platonic nor romantic, so the blossoming feeling in your stomach was foreign, exciting, even, and you never wanted it to stop.

_ It's been a long, long time _ .

As the song drew to a close, the room returning to silence with the end of the playlist, both of you stopped swaying. However, neither of you made any move to pull away from the other, wanting to remain in your little bubble for as long as humanly possible.

It was you who reluctantly pulled away, tilting your head to look into Steve's eyes. In the dim lighting, his eyes were oceans you wanted to get lost in forever and, being so close, noses almost brushing, you could just make out tiny flecks of green in his otherwise periwinkle irises. He raised the hand that was holding yours to your face, cupping your jaw. His thumb brushed across your cheekbone while your hand fisted the fabric of his hoodie at the side of his chest. His eyes flickered between yours, searching for a sign, anything to indicate that you didn't want this. 

Finding none, he shifted his face closer to yours, brushing your noses against each other. You didn't dare close your eyes, trying to commit every detail of his face to your memory. His lips were a hair's breadth away from yours, so close you could feel his breath on your skin, smell the faint, lingering scent of his mint toothpaste. 

Your eyes had begun to slide closed, fingers tightening around Steve's neck, about to push up and press your lips to his, when a loud pointed cough came from somewhere behind Steve, making you both jump apart. 

You looked around Steve for the intruder, spotting Sam over by the doorway, arms crossed, with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Your face and neck became very hot all of a sudden, though you found the rest of yourself cold. The two feet of space between you and Steve was suddenly much too far, the warmth of his body no longer pressed up against you.

Your hands fiddled with your sleeve, and you looked around the room, anywhere but at the two men. Steve cleared his throat and spoke in a clipped tone, "what are you doing here, Sam?"

Sam seemed surprised that he was being spoken to. "Hm? Oh, I just came for a glass of water." He moved towards the kitchen, pulling a glass from one of the upper cupboards. "I just didn't fancy a front-row seat to whatever you guys ended up doing on that couch. I am _way_ too tired for that shit." He muttered the last part, but it was quiet enough in the compound that you and Steve could both still hear it. 

The air in the room became tense, though Sam seemed none the wiser, as he stood drinking his water leisurely by the sink. 

You cleared your throat and buried your hands deep into the pockets of your sweatpants. "Right. Well... Goodnight, Steve." You spoke softly and chanced a glance at him, finding his face full of regret and disappointment, cheeks flushed red. You ducked your head and made a beeline for the door, not looking up as you passed the kitchen, grounding out a terse "night, Sam" as you did so. 

You rounded the corner just as Sam responded with a cheery "goodnight!" before you hurried down the corridor to your room. Once the door was shut, you leaned heavily against it, knocking your forehead against it a couple of times in exasperation. 

Suddenly overwhelmed by how emotionally exhausting the past hour had been, you stumbled over to your bed. Burrowing into your pillows, you settled in for what you knew would be a restless night of broken sleep.

Steve watched you leave with an expression that Sam could only describe as that of a kicked puppy. Without looking in his direction, Steve slumped off to his room too, his own "night, Sam" a half-hearted mumble. Sam watched him go and, once he knew that Steve was well out of earshot, let out an almost incredulous laugh.

"I am _so_ getting my ass kicked."

\---

It was several days before you saw Steve again.

Not that you were surprised, really. You had barely left your room for fear of running into him and the - let's face it, inevitable - awkward conversation that you knew was coming. 

Steve didn't come to see you, unsurprisingly, and you found yourself missing him. You had so easily slipped into a routine with him, become comfortable in his presence, that his sudden absence felt... wrong, despite having Nat and Wanda around again. And you seemed to be reminded of said absence at almost every turn; the "Continue Watching" panel on Netflix that displayed the most recent show that you had been binge-watching together. His coffee mug (or at least the one he had claimed as his, the one with his shield on it, that Steve had ribbed you for owning the first time he saw it) left upturned on the draining board after he washed it up. The pair of sneakers left neatly side-by-side by the door. 

He had permeated your life, and there was nothing you could do to mask the odd longing you felt in your chest. You hated yourself, for how easily you had allowed him into your life, your heart. You should have known better than that.

And yet, you wanted him, _here_ , with you. You wanted him to yell at you again, tell you how stupid you were, admonish you for your recklessness. Anything, anything but this. You'd take anything if it allowed you to see him, be near him again. Anything would be less painful.

Oh, how wrong you were.

On the third night after your almost-kiss, you finally ventured out of your room to the common area. You were growing tired of the same four walls and figured that it was late enough that you wouldn't bump into anyone while you were there. Thoughts of that night plagued your mind, as they had done every night since, and you were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn't notice the dim light emanating from the common area as you approached it.

It wasn't until a tentative voice spoke your name that you were startled from your thoughts, and came face-to-face with Steve, an expression on his face similar to that of a deer caught in headlights. You both froze, you mid-step, and Steve with a plate in his hand, part-way to putting it down. 

You were the first to speak and break the silence between you.

"Sorry, I was just... going to make some tea." You pointed vaguely in the direction of the kettle and Steve snapped out of his frozen state with a small jolt that you probably would have missed if you hadn't become so tuned-in to his every move. 

"Oh! Yeah, that's cool, don't let me stop you." You nodded your thanks and made your way to the opposite end of the kitchen island to where Steve was. He resumed the process of making a sandwich, as a tense silence settled between you. 

Needing some way to break the quiet, as well as distract yourself from your wandering thoughts, you attempted some small talk. 

"Couldn't sleep?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet of the night, it sounded almost too loud, and you internally winced. 

You glanced over at Steve, who had paused at your words. He shook his head and resumed his movements. "No," he said, almost as quiet as you. He seemed to think for a second as if deciding how much to share. "I get nightmares, sometimes." He said it almost casually, but there was an underlying vulnerability there, telling you that this was something that he didn't share often. Even with how tense things were between you right now, you were touched that he felt that he could tell you that. His head shook again, perhaps ridding himself of his thoughts before he turned to you with a slightly raised eyebrow. "You?"

You shook your head in response, turning to reach the teabags and a mug from one of the upper shelves. "Nope, I can't sleep either. Overthinking, I guess." Steve just nodded, and you both turned your attention back to your respective tasks, settling once again into a silence broken only by the sound of metal against china and the whistling of the kettle. 

You finished up before Steve did, and passed him with a soft "goodnight," but before you could make it to the door, he called your name, his voice a gentle whisper. Internally cringing, you turned back to him with a questioning look.

He appeared to shy away from your gaze slightly but continued speaking regardless. "Listen, about the other night, I-"

"No, Steve, it's okay, you don't..." You heaved a sigh, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. You had known this conversation would have to happen at some point. Still, you hadn't anticipated it happening tonight, in the middle of the common room when you were sleep-deprived. "You don't have to say anything, okay? I get it, it was... a spur-of-the-moment thing, we were both caught up in our emotions." You chanced a glance at Steve's face, finding his expression even more stunned than before. There was a crease in his brow, and you wanted nothing more than to smooth it out with your fingertips, your lips. Sighing again, you said, "I think it’s best if we just... forget it ever happened, okay?" The look you gave him was so pained, almost pleading, that Steve couldn't find it in him to try and fight back.

"I..." he swallowed, then sighed. "Yeah, if that's what you want." His tone laced with resignation. 

You nodded, almost too vigorously to have been genuine - though Steve was too defeated to notice - and swallowed the disappointment. "Yeah. Yes, that's what I want." _If only that were even a little bit true._ The awkward silence returned once more, though it only lasted a few seconds before you spoke with forced cheerfulness. "So, I'll see you at the gym in the morning? Ten, right?"

One side of his lips quirked up into one of his half-smiles, though his knotted brow remained unchanged. "Sure, Y/N. I'll see you there."

You nodded once and gave him your best attempt at a smile before you turned and retreated to your room, rapidly cooling mug of tea clutched in your hands.

You missed Steve's disappointed gaze that followed you from the room, as well as the dejected sigh that escaped his lips once you were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! the last part of the fire it ignites. i just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos on this story. i see and appreciate every one of you <3

As promised, you met Steve in the gym just before 10am the next day, after - finally - a few hours of sleep. Steve was already in there when you arrived, throwing punches at a punching bag. It was one of the extra-strong ones that Tony had designed for Steve after one too many messes when he had hit them with just a _little_ too much force. 

His back was to the door and, as you entered, you took a moment to enjoy the sight before you; the light sheen of sweat that had formed across his skin, the way his muscles shifted beneath the too-tight t-shirt as he moved. 

The sound of the door closing behind you brought you out of your thoughts, as well as alerting Steve to your presence. You greeted each other with "good morning"s and tight-lipped smiles, Steve unwrapping his hands while you set your bag at the side of the room, reaching to tie your hair back.

Steve couldn't help but get lost in your movements a little. His gaze trailed down from your neck to your back, following the smooth curve of your hips and strong legs. He knew well enough that, despite the softness to your form, you had the strength and stamina to do some damage to any enemies that came your way. He wondered what it would be like to feel that strength for himself, the movement of your muscles under his palms…

He quickly averted his gaze back to his hands when you lowered your arms, already feeling the blush creeping up his neck at even the thought of being caught staring at you. 

You began with some stretches, then completed several rounds of cardio and strength exercises. By the time you were both warming down, the atmosphere around you was much more comfortable, and you even began to joke with each other as you left. The surge of relief you both felt when you parted ways with warm smiles and "see you later"s was almost palpable. Perhaps things would actually be okay between you.

\---

You and Steve soon fell into another easy routine. Almost every day - barring those days where Steve was called away on a mission, or either you or Steve insisted you needed a rest day - you would get up _way_ earlier than you had once deemed acceptable and made your way to the gym. Sometimes, Steve would already be there, either going for a few rounds on a punching bag or doing some cardio - depending on the weather and whether he had managed to go for his morning run. Other times, you got there first and did some warm-up exercises until Steve showed up. 

You'd get in a decent mix of cardio (to rebuild your stamina), weights (to restore your strength), and hand-to-hand combat techniques, with Steve overseeing every aspect. As much as you would grumble about the early starts and the fact that Steve never failed to put you through your paces, you soon started to see some visible improvement. You could run faster and for longer, and you were able to hold your own against Steve a hell of a lot more effectively than when you restarted training. You could feel that you were more fluid and nimble with your movements, and Steve wasn't shy about expressing how impressed he was with your progress. You couldn't help but wonder if he was somehow trying to make up for his past animosity towards you. The idea was nice and sent a fresh wave of butterflies through your stomach every time it crossed your mind, but you really wished he wasn't so hard on himself. You had forgiven him for his past misgivings and had no ill-feeling towards him at all.

_ Except _ , right now as he insists the move he's trying to re-teach you "really isn't that hard, Y/N." You knew he was trying to be patient with you, but it was starting to frustrate him a little, too. The two of you had been working on this combat move for a few hours now, and you just couldn't get the hang of it, no matter how hard you tried. 

Steve took a moment to calm you both down and walked through the move one more time. You paid close attention, desperately trying to ignore the way his biceps flexed when he moved and allowed the steely determination to wash over you as you started towards him. 

You ran through each part of the process in your mind as you did so, replaying Steve's gentle but commanding voice in your head. It started out great, just as you had wanted, and allowed a tiny sliver of victory to worm its way into your mind. But, as you went into the last manoeuvre, you lost your balance and fell, landing on you back on the mat with a grunt of an exhale. 

Your hands quickly came up to rest against your face, hiding the frustrated tears that were threatening to fall. 

Steve's concerned voice only made it worse, really. "Hey. You okay?" He came to crouch next to you, and you hated how patient he was being. He brushed his fingertips against the back of one of your hands, and you moved them from your face, allowing them to drop limply at your sides as you let out a breath. 

You sat up quickly with a huff, angry tears dangerously close to falling, and swiftly made your way to one of the benches against the wall of the training room. Sitting heavily down, you muttered a curse and leaned forwards to rest your elbows on your knees, trying to calm yourself down.

Sensing your distress, Steve approached you and squatted in front of your knees so that he was level with your face.

"I know it's hard right now, but I promise it will be easier. You've already made so much progr-"

"When, Steve?" You sat up quickly, hair mussed from running your hands through it and met his eyes, frustration seeping out of your every pore. "I can't get this move right, you said yourself that it's not that hard, but I just can't get it!" You had taken to gesticulating widely with your hands, the volume of your voice rising with every word. You sighed and slouched back down again, eyes, trained on the ground between your feet. "I'll never get back to where I was before."

Steve shook his head and shifted closer to you, one hand resting on your knee, the weight of it there a surprisingly great comfort in itself. "You will. I promise, you will." His voice was firm but gentle, and your tied brain had no choice but to believe him and hang onto his every word. Especially when you saw the conviction in his eyes. "Most people might not, but you're not most people. You're so strong, Y/N, and so unbelievably stubborn that I have no doubt you won't stop working until you're even better than before." It felt as if he was staring directly into your soul, his words and tone so sincere that they touched something deep within you, and you felt your frustration being replaced with a surge of a different emotion. Softer, but no less all-consuming. "The team believes in you. _I believe in you_. All there's left to do is for you to believe in yourself."

Neither of you had noticed that Steve had been gradually moving closer to you, your faces now just inches apart, both of his hands resting on the sides of your knees. He seemed to notice your closeness at the same time you did, and his eyes darted across your face, focusing on your lips for just a second before trailing back up to your eyes. Being this close again, you could see the hints of green in his irises; the almost imperceptible smattering of freckles across his cheekbones, brought out somewhat inexplicably by the recent summer sun; the frankly unfair length of his eyelashes. 

Your lips parted in a barely audible gasp, and you searched his face for any doubt, any sign that this wasn't something he wanted, that you had misread the signs. That he didn't want what you wanted, what you had imagined for countless days.

Slowly, almost painfully so, your faces drew closer, breath mingling, though neither wanting to be the one to take the first step. Maybe it was fear holding the both of you back, and maybe it was stubbornness. 

But all of that faded away when your lips finally met, soft and gentle, and the only thing that you cared about was him. _This_. 

It was like you were breathing for the first time, like you had been deprived for so many years and had just now gotten your first taste of life. 

Yours and Steve's lips slowly parted, only for the two of you to dive right back in, with a renewed confidence and intensity. 

You allowed yourself to get lost in him, your hands sliding up his chest, one resting at the back of his neck, the other laying flush against his chest, Steve's hammering heartbeat pulsating through your fingers. The idea that you could have this kind of effect on him only made you want to be closer to him, to feel him pressed against you.

It seemed that Steve wanted the same thing, because he slid his hands along the outside of your thighs and across your hips until they reached your waist, pulling you closer together and allowing you to become even more consumed by the other. 

When you finally broke away, breathless, your faces stayed close, foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed, lips almost touching. Neither of you made any motion to move away, perfectly content to stay in your perfect little bubble as long as possible.

The two of you stayed like that - for minutes, maybe only seconds, you couldn't be sure - just breathing each other in, until the sound of laughter outside the gym caused you to jump apart. You felt that familiar shame wash over you, having allowed yourself to get caught up in the moment, _again_ , and screw up your relationship with Steve, _again_ , just as things were going well. 

You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat as you stood quickly and rushed to pack up your things, strategically avoiding eye contact with Steve. 

He tried to get your attention, calling your name softly, even trying to reach out for you as you passed him on your way to the door. You thought you could slip past him but, of course, he managed to grab hold of your wrist firmly, but not enough to hurt. You still refused to meet his eyes. You weren't sure you could handle the rejection you were bound to see in them. You tried to tug your wrist from his grasp, but he wouldn't relent.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

Nothing. _Everything_.

You just shook your head, gaze trained on the floor. "I'm sorry, Steve." Your voice was quiet, tense, and Steve was taken aback by it - so much so that, when you pulled your arm again, he let you go, frozen in place as he watched your retreating form slip through the door. 

Seconds later, a group of agents entered the gym, their lively chatter cutting through the tenseness of the room. Several nodded across the room with a "hey, cap" before returning to their conversations, and Steve couldn't find it in him to offer more than a forced greeting in return before he collected his things and dejectedly made his way back to his room. 

\---

Not even an hour later, Steve found himself in the empty kitchen, silently moving around to make some lunch. His mind kept replaying what had happened between you in the gym - the softness of your lips, the feel of your fingertips pushing through his hair - and he tried desperately to work out what went wrong.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear Natasha entering the room, only becoming aware of her presence when she gripped his forearm and shoved him against the wall closest to him. The movement startled him, to say the least, and part of his brain wondered how the hell she had managed to do that so easily. But a more significant part of his mind was focused on the anger on Natasha's face. It caused a particular brand of fear - the fear that only comes about when at the mercy of an angry woman - to spread through him, and he felt his eyes widening and his body stiffening.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on, Rogers?" She spoke quietly, voice oozing with barely-restrained fury, and Steve no longer felt like he had the body of a supersoldier. Under her gaze, he felt like a scrawny kid all over again, mere seconds away from getting his ass beat. 

She didn't even give him a chance to formulate a response before she continued, "something’s made Y/N upset. She won't tell me what happened, but I know the two of you trained this morning, and she was fine before then, so tell me, _what happened_?"

Steve knew that he wouldn't get out of there until he gave Natasha what she wanted, so after a cursory glance around the room to make sure they were still alone, he sighed and said softly, "we kissed."

Natasha, for all her stoicism and intimidation, actually looked taken aback for a second. Her face softened, and she took a step back, releasing Steve from her hold. "You kissed?"

Steve relaxed a little at her now softened voice and nodded. He could see the question forming in her eyes. "I don't know what happened, Nat. We kissed, and I thought it was great, but then some agents came in and she bolted."

She nodded once and turned her head to the side in thought. "You need to talk to her. She's obviously confused, you both need to talk and get everything straight. Neither of you will get any rest until you do. You gotta fix it, Steve."

With that, she turned on her heel and was gone as quickly as she had arrived.

\---

Steve's first text came a little over an hour after your training session. You refused to look at it, at first, unable to bring yourself to extract yourself from your duvet cocoon. But, when a second chime sounded a few minutes later, curiosity got the better of you and you unlocked your phone with a huff.

_ Steve: Are you okay? _

_ Steve: Please, Y/N, talk to me _

You stared at the screen for several minutes, your mind warring with itself over what to do. When tears started welling in your eyes again, you locked your phone and set it back on the bedside table, before rolling over and burying your head back into your pillows. 

You really wished you knew what to do about all this. It had become glaringly obvious that you had feelings for Steve, but there was no way you would ever admit that to him. After everything that had happened between you, the chances of him reciprocating those feelings were depressingly slim, even if he didn't hate you any more. 

Then again... he _had_ kissed you... or had you kissed him? Surely if he didn't want it to happen, he would have stopped you. Although he could have just gone along with it to spare your feelings - Steve's sweet like that, always thinking of others before him.

But, if he only kissed you back to placate you, then why had he seemed so into it? Unless you had imagined the subtle drag of his tongue against your lips and the way he had pulled you against his solid body...

_ Dammit, now's not the time. _

Regardless of his feelings towards you, though, what were you supposed to do now? You weren't sure you would be able to face him now without breaking down. Not after having a taste of what could be, _if only_... 

But, somehow, the thought of avoiding him again was even more heart-breaking. It was funny how quickly and efficiently someone could find their way into your heart without you even knowing, turning themselves into an integral part of your life. The idea of that had always scared you, and now you were realising just how much. 

You spent another hour inside your head, going round and round the same arguments. Though somehow, you always found your way back to the cold hard truth that Steve would never have feelings for someone like you. 

Your phone chimed again just as you were about to restart your argument with yourself.

_ Steve: What happened, Y/N? Please, help me understand _

Your stomach twisted with guilt. Steve didn't deserve to be kept in the dark like this. At the very least, you owed him an explanation.

_ You: Not like this. Not over text. _

His reply was almost instant, and your guilt grew at the idea that he had been waiting for your reply. 

_ Steve: I understand.  _

_ Steve: Will you meet me by the lake at 4 this afternoon? There's a deck on the far side of the water. It's quiet there. We can talk _

You debated asking to stay at the compound but quickly realised that everyone there seemed to enjoy walking in on you and Steve's moments together. Perhaps it would be best to go somewhere else.

_ You: Okay. I'll be there. _

Now all that was left to do was to prepare yourself for the emotional upheaval that was bound to be right around the corner.

\---

The low evening sun streaming through the trees made for a pretty scene as you made your way through the woods that surrounded the lake. You took a moment to appreciate it, knowing full well that the coming conversation would be anything but calm. 

The winding path you took eventually opened out into a small clearing next to the lake. On the opposite side of the clearing, there was a small dock, and you could see Steve already sat on the edge of it, looking pensively across the water.

He didn’t react when you sat next to him and, if it weren’t for his advanced hearing, you might have thought that he didn’t hear your approach. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both just enjoying the peace of the still water and the slowly setting sun. 

“I’m sorry.” You hadn’t planned on being the one to break the silence, to take the leap into conversation. But there it was. Apparently, Steve hadn’t planned on it either, if the way he suddenly turned to look at you was any indication. You kept your eyes trained on your hands that had settled into your lap, but could feel the weight of his gaze on your face. 

“What are you sorry for?” The confusion in his voice was evident, the gentle softness of it causing emotion to swell in your chest and throat.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat and screwed your eyes shut, heaving a sigh. “For putting you in this position. I know we were becoming friends - or I think that we were, anyway… and I’ve let my feelings get the better of me and screwed all that up.” Steve called your name softly, and you felt the faintest brush of his fingertips against your hand, but you just shook your head, refusing to even look in his direction. “Please, Steve, don’t make this harder.” He moved his hand back reluctantly, and it took everything in you not to reach out and nestle your fingers between his. 

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your gaze across the lake and continued, “You were too nice to turn me down earlier, and that night in the common room… But I need you to know that you don’t have to. It’s okay, I...” You chance the briefest of looks in Steve’s direction, and the deep frown lines on his forehead spur you on. “It’s okay that you don’t want me like that. Besides, we’re from different worlds. You deserve to be with someone like you; selfless, brave. Someone without a chequered past.”

Several minutes passed in silence between you, and you could almost hear Steve thinking next to you. Just as you were about to leave, Steve finally broke the silence.

“What makes you think that I don’t want you like that?” His expression was almost pained when you looked at him, his voice sounding strangely dejected. 

You huffed an incredulous chuckle, shooting him a disbelieving look. Quashing the speck of hope that threatened to break through, you replied, “isn’t it obvious?” Steve stared at you blankly, and you shook your head gently, turning back to look over the lake. “Besides the fact that you hated me for a good few months after we met? You could never be with someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

“A criminal. And an impulsive one at that. You belong with someone like you… someone unselfish and warm; a hero. I can never be that, for you or anyone.”

Steve bristled a little at that, and his movement caught your eye and pulled your gaze towards him. “But you are a hero.” You scoffed derisively and barely managed to suppress your eye roll. “I’m serious. You put yourself in front of a bullet to save my life. Admittedly, it probably did more damage to you than it would have to me, but you didn’t even think twice about putting your life on the line to save mine, even though I wasn’t completely deserving. There is nothing more heroic than that.”

The sincerity in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and you found yourself - not for the first time - being completely drawn in by the pools of liquid blue that had no trouble captivating you. 

Neither of you had noticed that, during Steve’s little speech, you had once again migrated towards each other, finding yourselves in a position similar to the one you were in that morning. But, this time, you were both determined not to let it end the same way.

“But I was impulsive. I just confirmed that you were right about me.”

Steve shuffled closer to you on the dock, taking your hand firmly in his. “No. You showed me, then, just how wrong I was. Only someone truly selfless would step in like that, especially to save someone who had been so awful to them.”

“You were worth it.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, your voice barely a whisper, but the slight hitch in Steve’s throat told you he had heard you just fine. 

Glancing down at his hand still holding yours, you bit your lip a little, a shy, sad smile forming on your face. “I never meant to appear arrogant, you know?” The smile he gave you was soft, though his eyebrows were bunched in their tell-tale look of concern. “All my life, I’ve had to put on this mask, this facade, of a confident and blase woman, just so I’d be taken seriously. Not many people would have faith in my abilities if I let them see me as soft.” You both chuckled softly, and you squeezed Steve’s hand gently as you spoke, “I guess I was just waiting for someone to look past the act and see… me.”

The world seemed to slow as Steve lifted his free hand to move a stray piece of hair away from your face. “I see you, Y/N,” he whispered, before threading his fingers through your hair and bringing your face to his, your lips meeting in a slow, lingering kiss that ignited a fire in your heart. 

When you separated, you stayed close, foreheads pressed together. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Steve pulled back just enough to look at your face. “Would you go on a date with me?”

You wouldn’t be able to keep the smile off of your face if you tried. Nodding, you pulled Steve in for another kiss, but your twin grins meant that it ended up being a mess of teeth that made you both burst into giggles. 

Neither of you knew for sure how much time you spent together out by the lake, talking and kissing and laughing, but when you stood to leave, hand-in-hand, the sky was a deep blue, and the moon shone brightly in the cloudless expanse. 

As you made your way back to the compound together, fingers interlaced, Steve listened to you talk animatedly about something and, watching the way your face lit up like a thousand suns, he realised: perhaps he didn’t hate you so much, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there you have it folks, we have come full circle! i really hope it was worth the wait  
> if inspiration strikes, i may revisit this story with a bonus chapter or two, but for now i have some other products i'd like to focus on  
> thank you for reading! as always, i'd love to know what you think and if you wanna chat you can find me on tumblr @bethycupcake :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! as always, comments are greatly appreciated and if you wanna chat, you can find me on tumblr @bethycupcake!!


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